Thirteen, when my dad was suspected, and thrown in jail for murder, and drug trafficking that I knew he did. At fourteen, when I witnessed, my first funeral which was caused by a serious case of overdosage, and that's when I knew there wasn't much to life than addiction.
Everything, I have been living was a lie, and full of deceit. I just thought I could make everything better, but I only solved a problem in which case was loneliness, but the pain I felt physically, and mentally was still there until HE came.
He hit me like a painkiller, and made everything depressing about my life go away. I had to take him every second, every minute, every hour, every single fucking day in a week, all weeks in a month, all months in a year or I could just die.
Because, I was his addiction, and he was my
*MORPHINE*
Chuck Colt, a cowardly and highly neurotic ghost, must find a way to reunite his soul to his newly zombified body before dawn, lest his (un)death becomes permanent.
*****
When Chuck Colt, a neurotic Movie Critic, inexplicably sees his own corpse hanging from a ceiling fan, he comes to the sudden realization that he is somehow a ghost. To make matters worse, his body seems to be moving on its own, and it doesn't like to follow Chuck's instructions.
Now, both Ghost and Zombie Chuck must work together in order to find a cure for their undead curse before sundown, lest they get stuck like that for eternity - if one of the city's weird assortment of characters doesn't get to them first.
The pair must comb through the magical city of New Orleans, facing multiple obstacles along the way - including but not limited to: werepugs, suicidal vampires, and trigger-happy priests - but the biggest obstacle they face is time.
Can Chuck Colt beat the clock to be whole again, or will the Big Easy prove to be too hard to handle?
For what is Tragedy, but Comedy - Time?
TW: Mentions of self-harm, suicide.
Cover by @IAmRodneyVSmith